I listened attentively, hoping that some tone of the Abbé's voice, a pose or a gesture, might reveal George Hamilton, if it were he, in the most excellent disguise I had ever seen. But nothing of the sort occurred, and before the dinner was over, I was still more convinced that whoever the Abbé du Boise might be, he was not Hamilton. After dinner came the heavy wines, of which the Abbé did not partake, and of which De Grammont and I drank sparingly. All the others, including the king, were gloriously drunk long before the night was over. While smoking our pipes, the king, who was eager to get his hands on French money, told the Abbé that he hoped to see him, with his credentials, at Whitehall on the second morning following at ten o'clock, and the Abbé said he would leave his credentials with my Lord Clarendon, and would be at Whitehall at the hour suggested by the king, for the purpose of making the French king's offer. Most of the guests went home between two men, very late at night, but fortunately I was able to walk home by myself. I was both glad and disappointed not to find George in the gown of the Abbé. I was glad because of the risk he would have taken had he come to England, yet disappointed in missing what would have been the most picturesque, daring personal exploit of English court history. But on the whole it was better as it was. The next morning the king sent for me to come to his closet, and asked if I knew one Lilly, an astrologer. I answered that I knew little of him personally, but had heard much of his wisdom and learning. "Yes, yes, but you know where he lives, do you not? On the Strand, a dozen houses this side of Temple Bar?" asked the king. "I have seen the house often, your Majesty," I replied. "Good! Now listen attentively to what I have to say," returned the king, graciously taking my arm and leading me to a window overlooking the river. "I hear from De Grammont that the Abbé du Boise is a firm believer in the teachings of astrology. I want you to arrange, without letting any one know that my finger is in the pie, to take Lilly to see the Abbé, or the Abbé to see Lilly. I'll whisper a word in your ear. The stars will tell our friend, the Abbé, a story to suit our purposes. The French king and his ambassadors will find their match in me, I warrant you. I have bought Lilly, body and soul--with promises." The king shrugged his shoulders and whispered: "With promises, you understand, Baron Ned, with promises. Now give him a chance at the Abbé." Charles laughed and chuckled in self-gratulation, not the least suspecting that he was talking to the wrong man and playing into the French king's hand. I bore in mind the fact that the king had bought Lilly with promises, and I determined to buy the good Doctor with ready gold. "I'll try to carry out your Majesty's commands," I answered, apparently doubtful of my ability. "But of course you would not have me insist, if the Abbé seems disinclined to consult Lilly."